


Bloodlines

by AceQueenKing



Series: Bloodlines Universe [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Mass Effect Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Reaper war, Garrus Vakarian's father struggles with some new additions to the Vakarian family.</p><p>Winner of the 5th Annual MEKM People's Choice Awards for "Most Emotionally Touching Story"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on the Mass Effect kink meme. This version has been cleaned up and revised.

My duty, he tells his children, is not to make your lives easy. He could do so with ease – he has friends in the right places, the right kind of career, married into the right kind of family – but he does not. Instead, Tiberius Vakarian has etched duty, honor, and responsibility into the fabric of his children’s bones. He has never coddled them but has always supported them. He has never paved their way, but has taken pride in their status in the Hierarchy, statuses fully earned by their own merits. He has never once cashed in his political favors for his children, has never once bailed them out of trouble they have created; instead, he has taken pride in their accomplishments, their commitments. And he is very proud of his children.

His daughter, Solana, is one of the top operatives in Blackwatch, he knows, even if he can’t find much information on her classified missions. He sees the way she moves - careful, graceful - and his heart sings as he thinks of her putting her skills to use for the Hierarchy. She is beautiful and smart and swift, like her mother, and he knows the ancestors have blessed her path.

And then, there is his son, Garrus, whose path may have been ever thornier than his sister’s, but whose heart he loves no less.

Granted, his relationship with his son has always been more turbulent than he’d like, and the boy hasn’t always made decisions Tiberius has understood, but…

The war has, perhaps, reminded them both of what is important.

There were times when he has had doubts on whether he has succeeded in raising his eldest.

Garrus has always been so full of promise, and so frustratingly prone to throwing it away on a whim. He has struggled for years to forgive Garrus for tossing away a promising career with C-SEC merely to run around the Terminus playing spectre. Pallin thought Garrus mad, or at least foolish - and he shared the Executor’s opinion of the boy.

But Garrus, against all odds, succeeded, and in doing so became a hero on the Citadel. While he might not have approved of his son’s methods, he admired the results. When Garrus went back to C-SEC with a promotion in tow, he couldn't have been happier. Even Pallin begrudgingly admitted that perhaps Garrus had been right after all.

Then abruptly and completely without any warning, Garrus threw away his promising career _again_ and disappeared for two years.

In the beginning, Tiberius was furious.

But then, there was only two years of cold, hard silence, and Tiberius found his anger fading in the face of overwhelming worry. Worry that gnaws at his gizzard with large, serrated teeth, driving him mad.

When Garrus returns home to him at last, both broken and scarred, Tiberius finds himself willing to listen to Garrus' story.

Garrus tells him of Shepard, of their travels, and of fantastical threads that he can just almost believe in. It's a difficult to believe the story, but Garrus does not lie. 

Garrus does not discuss his injuries and Tiberius does not ask. He knows that whatever has happened, it has tempered the steel of his son’s fire, burnt the violence from his bones as it burnt the skin of his flesh.

The Garrus who disappeared was a boy - the Garrus who reappeared, a man.

And this new, adult Garrus is not nearly as selfish as he had once feared the boy to be.

While Garrus’ may have traveled in a human spectre’s ship for three years, his son has used the time well. He has compiled exhaustive evidence about the reapers, evidence which he has used to support the Hierarchy.

It's no secret the turians were best prepared, and that is due entirely to the efforts of his child.

Yes, he is proud of his son. He may not have always taken the road he wanted his son to walk, but Garrus has become a proper turian all the same.

And for the first time in a long time, he suspects Garrus is proud of him, too. They work as a team convincing Fedorian to allocate funds against the reapers and it feels _right_ , to work side by side with his son. When they are separated by the war, they continue the good fight. He fights and takes pride in the fact that clan Vakarian is one of the many clans retaking Cipritine.

It has been a long time since they have had the same goal, his children and him.

In the days following the war, he is made Primarch as Victus moves on, and Garrus is there, smiling, as he takes the ceremonial vows.

He smiles back.

For the first time since his wife has died, he feels the pride that comes from something going _right_.

Sapientia would be proud of them, he thinks. It had always bothered her, he knew - the distance between her husband and her son.

He just wishes she had lived long enough to see it for herself.

Their family, he thinks, is growing too small.


	2. Chapter 1

He is surprised when Garrus brings up the idea of bonding with a female before he does. He is pleased beyond words as he listens to his son stammer for permission to take as bond-mate into the clan. He had thought that convincing Garrus to wed would be difficult.

His oh-so-independent son volunteering to do his duty and marry a suitable mate, produce children to fuel the future of the Hierarchy? Garrus, he thinks, has finally become an adult and he beams with joy at his eldest born.

“Ha!” He clasps his son’s shoulder and smiles. He lets his pleasure radiate through his sub-vocals and is puzzled for a moment when Garrus does not return his tone. “What’s her name, son?”

Garrus shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot before answering and he feels a few raw stabs of misgiving in his gut. Has his son mated with an asari stripper? Found some bare-face whore to raise his young? He has credited Garrus with more sense than that, but Garrus has always scattered his blessings to the wind.

“Shepard.” Garrus finally says, staring straight at him for a moment before looking away, and his heart falls. A bare-face turian would at least have been turian, and asari…Well, asari are adaptable. Humans are not.

“The spectre.” He finds himself saying, his sub-vocals registering an entirely different and far more displeased emotion.

“Yes.” Garrus eyes shine, and he catches several emotions in Garrus’ brief answering trill –pride, happiness, love.

“Your commander.” How long has this been going on, to make his son so enthralled with this woman? Did she order him to -

“Yes.” Defensive sub-vocals now. No, Garrus has chosen this of his own accord.

“A human.” He does not know much about humans, but he fears they are irresponsible by nature. The Relay 314 incident has taught them all that.

“Yes,” Garrus growls, impatient. “She is my mate, father.”

“Indeed?” He turns to look his son in the eye. “How long has this been going on, Garrus?”

“Long enough.” Garrus swallows. “Since the Collectors.”

He pulls his mandibles tight to his jaw in grim realization. This is how Shepard must have gotten his talented son to volunteer for what Garrus had charitably described as a suicide run. He is disappointed in his son for falling for her charms so easily.

“So before you came home.”

“Yes.”

“Surely you knew it was a mistake then? Given that you said nothing about this …relationship at the time.”

“We had bigger problems to deal with.” Garrus’ hands open and close as he paces this room, his sub-vocals shifting into a mournful tone as he pleads his case. “I am not ashamed of her, father. Of us.”

He says nothing for a moment, regarding his son with a cool eye. Garrus has always been his most talented child – and his most passionate. It is difficult, sometimes, to convince him to see logic.

But he knows that, as his father, it is his duty to do so.

“Son.” He clasps his boy’s shoulder and winces as Garrus flinches at the contact. “Such relationships are not uncommon in the military, but rarely last. You would not be the first in our family to have such a …dalliance.”

Garrus shakes his head. “It’s NOT like that. She…”

“Your uncle Drusus nearly married an asari commando, you know – but he couldn't bear the thought of his children considering Thessia home.”

Garrus muscles are tense under his hand, but his son is quiet. Good. Perhaps he will listen.

“She is from a very different culture, son. Humans do not even bond for life, as we – “

“She will. She _wants_ to share her life with me, father.” There is an eagerness in Garrus’ eyes that disturbs him. How can his talented son be so taken with this spectre? She cannot give him what he needs: a home, a child, a family.

Perhaps it is time to call his attention to it.

“And do you think you could enjoy a full bond with a woman who cannot even bare your children?”

“Yes.” His son’s mandibles flare at the last statement in open challenge before clamping shut in discomfort.

“If you can’t trust her, at least trust my judgment, father. Can you grant us permission based on that?” Garrus pleads.

He sighs and turns his back to the boy in response. In truth, he cannot bear to watch, does not want to see Garrus’ eyes pleading with such lovesick hope.

He is silent for a moment, trying to find the words that will not break his son’s heart before realizing that it will not matter. He cannot prevent his son from making a mistake, but he will not make it easier for him to do so.

“No.”

He expects Garrus to not allow him to offer a reason, and he is right. Garrus laughs, and the sound is cold and bitter. “Suppose this was all a waste of time, anyway.”

A door slams, and he is left alone in his office.

He does not hear from his son again for several weeks.


	3. Chapter 2

Six weeks later, his omni-tool beeps with a new message, the first from Garrus since their last meeting.

_Commander Shepard and Legionnaire Vakarian cordially invite you to their joining ceremony…_

It is a peace offering, he knows. If he goes to see them bonded, Garrus will grin, mandibles dropped in a smile. His son will clasp his arm, and tell him how good it is to see his father again. Tiberius would find himself smiling and agreeing, he knows. He has missed his son.

He wants to accept. Could even see himself there, could see him watch his son promise himself eternal devotion to a woman who he knows cannot even grasp the magnitude of such a duty.

He wants badly to see his son bonded and happy.

But how can he endorse Garrus in this childish dream? To not only allow, but encourage his son to bond with an unsuitable mate, one who cannot share in his culture, in his blood? He cannot turn away from his duty as a father, even if that duty is difficult.

To do anything less would be to fail Garrus when he needs his father most.

Still, it is with a heavy heart that he hits decline.

Garrus’ response is a cold and silent fury.

Solana, ever her brother’s opposite, spews white hot rage at him for weeks when she finds out what he has done.

In the end, she goes to the service without him.

When she returns, he does not ask what it was like, but she tells him anyway.

“It was a nice ceremony. Garrus is so happy with her.” His daughter says to him, but her sub-vocals trill sadness. “He’d have been happier with you there, but…”

He says nothing. They have had this argument before.

She sighs.

“She’s not so bad, dad.” She says. “You’d like her if you’d meet her. She’s good for him.”

He very much doubts it, but he says nothing.

When Solana leaves, it is the last either of his children talks to him for a very long time.

\- - -

 

Months go by without word; he thinks of contacting his son often but refuses to allow himself to succumb to the temptation. Being a military adviser for the Hierarchy, it is difficult for Garrus to avoid meeting the Primarch. Garrus makes it a point to do so and, annoyingly, mostly succeeds.

Soon, he thinks that will change. His son will realize the mistake he has made, and he will be there for Garrus when the spectre vanishes, leaving his son’s heart in the dust. Humans, he knows, do not grasp the concept of life-bonding; it is common for them to suddenly decide to break their unions over the smallest of problems.

And Shepard is not just human, but a spectre as well - and spectres never stay in one place for long. Attachment is _not_ part of the job.

His son has remained on Palaven since their bonding ceremony, and he is surprised Shepard hasn’t left already. Palaven is a harsh climate for turians. It is harsher for humans.

He is even more surprised when his omni-tool chimes one morning with an incoming call from her.

He straightens his spine as he flicks the accept call button with his talon, sitting upright and proud as his daughter-in-law’s face flickers into view. He’s seen her on holos before – the whole galaxy has – but he has never seen her in person, and certainly never like this. She has several large scars running across her face, and her right arm is fitted with a cybernetic brace that reminds him of another spectre. She does not wear his clan colors, he notices, but he can make out a ring on one of her far-too-many fingers.

“Primarch Vakarian.” She says, and her voice is thin and rough, not at all like the feminine voice he remembers from all the holovids. Still, the underlying strength and determination inherent in her voice leave little doubt that this is her.

“Spectre Shephard.” He inclines his head toward her in greeting.

If she notices that he doesn't add his name to her own, she shows no sign of being insulted by it.

“Garrus’ birthday is next week.” She begins, simply.

He nods. “I am aware.” He is thankful she does not try to make small-talk, as many humans do in discomforting situations. He likes her efficiency.

“I’m throwing a little party for him. Just friends and family.” Much to his surprise, she casts her eyes down in response and touches the hem of her shirt. She rolls the fabric covering her stomach between her fingers; he tilts his head in response, not understanding the very human gesture.

“It would mean a lot to me… and to Garrus…if you would attend.” She says, and there is warmth to her voice that suggests that this, too, is an offer of peace.

“Ah.” He says but leaves his tone neutral.

She crosses her arms and frowns.

“We would like to see you.” Her tone is insistent, commanding, but he can pick up the tiniest hint of pleading, too, and Tiberius wonders whether it is Garrus or Shepard who is so desperate for his approval. He finds himself grudgingly respecting her deference to filial duty - she may not be turian, but perhaps, he thinks, she can understand that much.

For a moment, he entertains the thought of going. He would like to see his son. A part of him suspects he would even like to see this strange, human daughter-in-law who he finds himself begrudgingly admiring.

But knowing of Turian customs is one thing, and abiding by them is another. If she truly understood, she would never have accepted Garrus’ request for a life-bond.

And, once again, he knows he would not be doing his duty as a father to accept.

He ignores the twinge in his gizzard as he stares resolutely into the face of the Savior of the Galaxy and turns her down.

“If Garrus wants to see me, he knows where to find me, Commander.”

For a moment, she closes her eyes and says nothing.

When she reopens them, her eyes look heavy and wet, in that odd, human way. It is more vulnerable than he has ever seen her - more vulnerable than he imagines almost anyone in the galaxy has seen her.

The intimacy is ...uncomfortable.

“I see. “ She finally says, and she does not need sub vocals to project the disappointment in her voice. “I guess I just…” She chuckles, and there’s a bitter tone there that reminds me entirely too much of his son. “Well, I wanted to be wrong.”

Before he can respond, she turns her head to someone beyond the screen to say words he cannot hear, the connection terminates, and she is gone.

He hears a day later from Solana, who has thawed enough to talk to him again. It’s Solana, in the end, that lets it slip that Garrus has accepted a position as a security adviser on the Citadel. He will leave in a fortnight.

He feels like his gizzard has been kicked by a horde of screaming klixen at the news, but he isn't surprised by it.

Spectres never did stay in one place for long.


	4. Chapter 3

The sickness that began gnawing at his gizzard nearly a week ago continues unabated, and his son consumes more of his thoughts than is prudent for the leader of Palaven. He wants to reach out, to talk to Garrus, to make him understand.

But when Tiberius thinks of his son, he thinks of Garrus’ angry eyes, of Shepard’s heavy, wet ones. He wonders if perhaps the best gift he can give his son is to merely wish for him to be happy. He wants to tell him that.

He nearly calls his son several times, each time lingering over Garrus’ name in his omni-tool.

He even goes so far as to draft a letter to his son on his omni-tool.

_I have only ever criticized you in hopes of making you better. Of making you happy. If you can be happy in this relationship, then -_

But he stops, deletes. He’s never been able to take the easy path before.

What would the ancestors think, if they saw him _smiling_ at Garrus as the boy defies their traditions?

He has a duty, and he must see it through. Even at the cost of his own happiness.

Tiberius is a father, after all.

That thought doesn't make this hurt any less.

With a snarl, he gets up and grabs his cane. Perhaps he can burn some of the ill feelings in his gizzard via exhaustion.

He doesn't set out with any destination but finds his legs drawing him to his wife’s tomb.

He is not surprised.

He misses her.

He sees fresh flowers at the entrance - delicate, silver-green _spiriti_. Her favorite. Which of his children has come by, he wonders?

He misses them, too.

Though he’s gotten to the age where bending down to offer prayers to the spirits makes his spurs ache, he does the full devotional for his wife. He speaks for a long while to her spirit, but he feels no peace.

He suspects Sapientia would not approve of things between him and Garrus. He keens to the spirits of his ancestors, looking for guidance.

She would have been able to fix this. His wife had always been the one who…the one who always knew what to say. The one who always knew what to do.

His family has become far too small.

He misses them all so much.

His omni-tool lights up in the darkness, and he is surprised to see that it is Garrus calling. He flicks his omni-tool on, peers at the image of his son as it coalesces. He is a bit thicker around the middle, his mandibles a bit broader, his scars a bit more faded – but otherwise, the same Garrus. He looks good.

“Happy birthday, son.” He says, softly.

“Shepard’s pregnant,” Garrus says by way of greeting, his voice neutral and guarded. “I thought you should know.”

“I see.” He says, and he weighs his words carefully. “I’m sorry, son.” And he truly is; as much as he knew this was a bad match, seeing his son taken for a fool is painful.

“You’re sorry. You’re sorry.” Garrus repeats, and he winces at how angry Garrus sounds. “You’re _sorry_ we’re having a _baby_?”

Tiberius sighs. Two words in and already he is arguing with his head-strong boy again.

“No, I’m sorry this woman has reduced you to a cuckold.” He is surprised Garrus is so enthralled with Shepard that he would willingly raise another’s child. Garrus has always been prideful - it is hard to understand how he could tolerate raising another's young.

"Oh, no." Garrus huffs, and he can see his son trying to shake the tension that is evident in his frame. “The baby is mine, dad.”

He feels too incredulous to be tactful.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He snorts. “Humans and turians…It’s impossible.” He’d always known Garrus to be vulnerable to this woman’s suggestions, but this is beyond ridicule. “You know that.”

“Shepard has ways of making the impossible happen.” Garrus begins to explain further, but he has no desire to hear the spectre’s lies pour from his son’s gullible mouth.

“Garrus, if you truly believe this, you are more deluded than I thought.” He scoffs. “Do you really want to raise some human's bastard?”

Garrus is speechless and stares at him, teeth bared in aggression. It is not the reaction he is hoping for, but it is what he expects. His son is far too under that woman’s thrall, and he regrets not pulling Garrus away from her earlier, before it was too late.

Spirits forgive Garrus, made a fool.

He would give anything to keep his son from this.

Perhaps… Perhaps if he just asked…

“Come home to me, son,” he offers, pleading with a shrill keen. “I have missed you.”

Spirits forgive them both.

He loves his boy, fool heart and all.

Garrus looks uncertain and his mandibles flicker in sadness. “Father…” he begins and Tiberius feels a whisper of hope take hold in his heart that his son will, for once, listen to reason.

But Garrus does not get to finish his sentence.

A thin, wispy voice joins their conversation. “Garrus?”

Garrus stiffens straight and breaks eye contact with his father. A second form flutters into being on the video, and he sees Shepard approach his son. One of her hands rubs his son’s mandibles in a gesture of concern so intimate that even he, for a moment, almost believes that she truly loves him. Garrus touches his brow to hers and murmurs words that his father cannot hear. Then, Garrus rubs his wife’s belly affectionately, and Tiberius knows that Garrus will not be coming home.

His heart sinks.

Ancestors forgive him; he will give Garrus what little blessing he can without shaming them all.

“I see you have made your choice, son. I hope you will be happy.” He whispers.

He closes the connection and the last image he sees is Garrus’ head jerking toward him.

In the stillness of the night, Tiberius Vakarian keens softly in his wife’s tomb and mourns for all that he has lost.


	5. Chapter 4

Solana quickly follows her brother to the Citadel, running some special covert ops for Councilor Victus. He does not ask whether this was her assignment or her choice. He does not want to know the answer.

As a secondary mission, she takes it upon herself to update her father with Garrus’ progress. Evidently, Garrus has adjusted well to his new position. He is, for the first time, well liked by his superiors. He receives a promotion within months and takes Solana and Shepard out for a strange food called soo-shi to celebrate.

She updates him on Shepard, too. She’s all but retired from her people’s military, due to her condition. She keeps busy with spectre business and is heavily involved in negotiating a trade summit.

Shepard’s pregnancy is also progressing well, with few complications. Solana has been teaching her turian cradle stories in preparation for the babe’s birth.

It is blatant from Solana’s excited chattering that both his children are so very eager for this child. He wonders how this woman can charm both his children so utterly as to get them to accept a babe born of lies as unbelievable as a living Prothean.

This child is not their blood. It will never be turian, will never be  _Vakarian_. No amount of cradle-song will make it so.

He does not understand.

Solana also makes it a point to send him several holos over the next few months. The first is Garrus grinning at his desk. It's the first time he remembers seeing his son taking pleasure in his work.

Then, a shot of Garrus and Solana at a shooting range. The angle on this one is odd, lower to the ground than he is used to in their pictures - Shepard must have taken it.

A couple months later, he receives one of Shepard and Solana posing outside a restaurant in what can only be the even more gaudily rebuilt Zakera. Solana’s hands are grasping her sister-in-law’s slightly swollen belly with frenzied expectation.

A few weeks after that, he receives one of Garrus and Shepard posing on top of some far-too-high precipice of the Presidium. Shepard’s rifle is delicately resting on her enormous stomach, Garrus’ arms wrapped around her side.

He never comments on the photos, but he saves each and every one and stares at them at night when he cannot sleep.

The manor is too quiet without his children.

He is thankful Solana, at least, is still communicating with him.

When he gets a call from his daughter, he closes his eyes and pretends she is home with him. Her words rush over him as they always have – a familiar patter, one he takes great comfort in. He savors her voice as she tells him about each and every adventure and misadventure she has on the Citadel.

She is telling him all about escorting Shepard to a doctor’s appointment when his console beeps with a new incoming file from her. He flicks it open as Solana says, quietly, “They’ve decided to name the baby Tarquin.”

“Tarquin Shepard-Vakarian” it says in neat script at the top of the message.

A holo is attached.

He holds his breath, and clicks it, bracing himself for the ugly, naked pyjacks that human infants so resemble. He debates for a moment whether he should try to lean on some of his old C-SEC contacts at Huerta. Perhaps they can provide a DNA sample from the child’s records. If so, he could locate the bastard-infant’s father and prove to Garrus’ that he has been a fool, restore some honor to his stained name.

But all his thoughts are lost as he stares at the loaded image.

He is not prepared for what he sees.

Six fingers, four toes. Soft plates already forming along an impossibly tiny carapace; tiny spurs already jutting out of a small babe’s soft extremities. He sees Garrus’ high crest. The arch of the babe’s keelbone is so very like Solana’s own elegant curve - the same as her mother’s. And he recognizes his own long, broad mandibles, twitching in the child’s womb-dreams.

There is no need for a test, he thinks sickly. He knows this child’s blood, though it is impossible.

His blood.

 _Tarquin_.

Named for a war martyr. A good, dutiful Turian spirit for the child to aspire to.

This child.

His  _grandson_.

He traces the child’s small talons and claws through the image and feels his chest grow heavy with longing; he is shocked that he can bear to breathe.

He’s not sure how long he looks at the image, but by the time he regains enough of his senses to ask Solana how this has been made possible, she is gone.

He does not know how a human can bear a turian child. He does not, perhaps, want to know what sacrifices Shepard has made to carry the babe. He does not know how the child can possibly survive in her levo-womb, though he hopes dearly that it will.

What he does know is that if he continues down this path, this child will never know him, and that cold knowledge leaves a chill in his bones he cannot fight.

Ancestors forgive him.

Has he erred in his judgment?

He has done  _everything_  to bring honor to the spirit of clan Vakarian. He has given up his happiness  and laid his family down on the altar of duty, of sacrifice.

Has he become an old, doddering fool?

Tiberius closes his eyes, evaluates all he knows about his son’s mate.

But in the end, there is only one word that truly matters: Blood.

When his descendants are born, they will hear of the proud lineage woven into their flesh: _You are a continuation of House Vakarian, unbroken since the last battle of Cipritine_.

They are blood now, him and this odd human spectre. Linked forever, a mere heartbeat apart on the Vakarian pedigree. He can hear an echo of the future in his mind, can listen as his descendants recite their lineage:

_Tarquin, the child of Jane and Garrus; Garrus, son of Tiberius and Sapientia; Tiberius, son of Manea and Palen; Manea, daughter of Alcesta and Venari…_

Blood. They are blood. And there is no changing that.

 _If you can’t trust in her, at least trust my judgment, father._  

Garrus had tried to explain, but Tiberius had closed his eyes and turned away.

_Shepard has ways of accomplishing the impossible._

True to his son’s word, she has.

It is Tiberius who has become the fool.

He places his fingers on his temple and keens.

Councilor Victus has been urging him for some time to visit the rebuilt Citadel.

Perhaps…Perhaps it is time he took him up on it.


	6. Chapter 5

In five minutes, he makes up his mind. He will go.

After thirty minutes and two long-distance calls, his plans to meet with a surprisingly pleased Adrian Victus are complete.

Within six hours, he has booked passage on a shuttle to the Citadel.

And in eight hours, he is gone.

On the way, he pulls up his omni-tool and types a message to Garrus.

_Councillor Victus asked me to come see him at his office. Heading to the Citadel for a couple days._

_Your sister passed along a picture of Tarquin._

_He has your crest, you know._

He hits submit, then watches as Palaven becomes a smaller and smaller dot as they speed toward the rebuilt relay.

He closes his eyes as they enter it and Tiberius hopes that Garrus will understand both all that he  _says_  and all that he  _means_. Hopes that it is not too late. Prays that the ancestors will both understand and forgive his mistakes.

A reply beeps back at him as soon as they hit the Widow system.

_Stop by my office when you’re done with Victus. We’ll talk._

_-G_

A surge of hope warms his long-chilled heart, and he cannot stop his mandibles from flaring into a grin.

Sapientia would be proud of him, he thinks and prays for her spirit to watch him as he meets with their children.

Perhaps it is not too late for him after all.

\- - -

He never does meet with Victus.

Solana flags him down in a panic moments before he enters the council chamber, his omni-tool flashing urgently with a high priority message. He knows this is not a normal conversation from the moment she blinks into image, eyes wide and mandibles tight against her jaw. The background - some kind of vehicle - betrays nothing.

“Dad!” Solana stutters and shimmers in and out as if the connection is unsteady. “Thank the spirits I caught you. Garrus said you were on the Citadel, with Victus.”

“What’s going on? Where are you? Are you hurt?”

Solana shakes her head, but there is a stiffness in her ordinarily graceful movements that does nothing to stop his heart’s ache. “In a skycar, heading to Huerta. We were in Zakera, Highwater Towers. We were meeting with the krogan delegation from the talks.”

“We?” He asks, as he searches his mind for what kind of talks she is talking about, but fails. “Talks?”

“Turian-krogan armament conference. Talking about building a combined navy. Controversial. It’s the entire reason my squad was sent to the Citadel, dad.”

She tilts her head. “Would have thought you would have been able to ferret that information out of someone, by now. Blackwatch has been setting up plans here for months. Not checking up on me anymore?”

“I didn’t ask.” He says stiffly.  
  
“Ah.” There is an awkward pause, and father and daughter both glance away from one another.

Solana recovers first. “And the we is, well, me and Shepard.”

It is his turn to tilt his head in confusion. “Why was a human at a armament talk between the Hierarchy and the Krogran?”

Solana looks down. “She’s just about the only commander who has served who served on a half-turian ship with krogan in mixed species squads. Both Victus and Urdnot Wrex asked her to give testimony on her experiences.”

“And now you are on the way to a hospital. Spirits, what happened, Solana?”

“Talks started fine. No security breaches, C-SEC on the ground floor, searched everyone. Usual precautions. Given her …condition and the controversial nature of the summit, officers Pollux and Castria were assigned to guard Shepard. My unit was protecting Dignitary Pauvis exclusively, due to the death threats, he got for even _suggesting_ this mess. First four hours, everything was good. Hour five, some green C-SEC recruit from Vallum turned out to be a god damn Taetrus terrorist.”

His heart sinks.

"He broke lines downstairs and set off a bomb. Took himself out with it. Heavy casualties, but only light structural damage.” Her voice never wavers, but he can tell from her eyes that she is upset. He wonders how many have been lost.

He is proud of her for remaining strong and tells her so.

She shakes her head. “That set off panic upstairs. Krogan and turian isolationists started accusing one another of sabotage. Things turned violent and our orders changed to evacuation. Got Pauvis out, then went back to help the remaining others. C-SEC put the entire ward on lock-down.”

"When I got back, I immediately saw we’d been hit hard by casualties." His beautiful daughter draws in a calming breath. "Saw Castria go down to a krogan head shot trying to get Shepard out of the hall. Pollux got shot in the knee – the same krogan – and fell behind. Shepard picked up his gun and got several good shots into the damn bastard when he charged her, but she had to take a nasty dive to get out of the way. Hit her head pretty bad, and fell forward."

He feels his veins turning cold.

"Given our blood-bond, I took up her protection. Killed the krogan.” She swallows. “ Got her into the hall. Then, we got ambushed by several more krogan. Special ops.”

“ _Spirits_.” He keens. It is a gift that he still has a daughter, but if Shepard is gone…

He thinks of Garrus’ reaction and his blood runs cold.

Garrus will follow Shepard through anything and Tiberius has no doubt Garrus will not hesitate to follow her to the spirits, as well.

“No, that was lucky. Aralakh company. Their commander served under Shepard during the Reaper Wars. He pretty much headbutted anything that got in our way, turian or krogan. Said it’s his instinct to protect…” Solana’s mandibles twitched. “Fertile Battlemasters. Got us out. But…” She sighed.

“Yes?”

“Shepard started going into labor while we were evacuating. I think she’s having the baby. I think the stress, combined with the fall…”

She doesn’t wait for his reaction. “It’s…early.” Solana’s eyes are downcast. “I got one of the C-SEC cars to take her to Huerta along with any injured krogan. I’m following a sky-car behind with our VIPs. Should be there any second. I already called Garrus; he hung up on me after I told him about the baby, but I think he’s on his way. Think he was still in a meeting at the C-SEC academy, wards-side. I don’t think he’ll make it in time.“

He stares, speechless.

“I’m not a doctor, but…There was a lot of …fluid, when she fell. And blood.” She looks up, finally, her normally bright blue eyes turbulent. “She’ll live, but…”

Father and daughter both look down, caught in thought.  
  
Are the Spirits punishing him for his foolishness? Punishing Garrus for his father’s crime? Punishing an innocent child who -

 _No no no,_  he thinks, mandibles pulled tight.  _Take me,_  he wills the spirits.  _Take me, who is old. Do not punish -_

Solana mistakes his silence for apathy and sighs heavily. “I know you’re not…” She shakes her head, then starts again. “….Look, Garrus is…He’s…He’s going to need help. You know how he gets, especially when Shepard is in danger. You need to stop him before he does something rash.”

“I’m on my way,” He says and notices how her mandibles drop in surprise before she nods and the connection is cut.

He murmurs an apology to Victus’ aide before getting out of the Tower as fast as his old legs can carry him.

He knows the Citadel, even rebuilt. Years of walking the wards have left with him with an exact sense for the heartbeat of the city. 12:00 is a bad time to need to be anywhere, and the attack will leave the path to the hospital tied up.

The odds of Garrus getting a skycar, even with his considerable security authorization, are not high.

Tiberius hobbles toward his ambassadorial skycar, evaluating his options for encountering his son. Garrus will look for the shortest route – the elevator from the wards to the presidium, then to the rapid transport. That will be his bottleneck – he’ll have to wait for a car. No avoiding that.

A plan forms in Tiberius’ mind and he hopes he will encounter Garrus before the boy does something reckless. 

His hand twitches as an ambulance passes, sirens wailing.


	7. Chapter 6

For the first time in his life, the Primarch of Palaven indulges in speeding and reaches C-SEC in mere moments.

His hunch proves correct; he spots a turian in familiar blue armor pacing outside the rapid transit. He pulls into the taxi lane and pops open the door. “Get in.”

“Dad?” Garrus eyes are wide in panic and surprise, but he clamors into the car without a moment’s hesitation.

He opens his mouth to tell his son what he has traveled all the way here to say, but Garrus cuts him off before he can even start: “Huerta. Now.”

He nods and immediately fires up the engines. Garrus keeps a straight watch on the sky-way ahead.

Tiberius looks back as they pull off, the still familiar C-SEC headquarters fading rapidly into the distance. He hits the accelerator full force. “Sol told me what’s going on.”

Garrus nods but looks away. Says nothing, reveals nothing. keeps his eyes on the horizon.  

He watches Garrus build an iron wall between them, his adult son's eyes never wavering from their destination.

"Thought maybe we could test my diplomatic immunity with a little blatant speeding.” He tries humor and prays Garrus’s wall will crumble. Humor has always been a good way to puncture Garrus’ iron defenses, the only in he's ever found in the boy.

It is a start, enough to get Garrus to glance at him and give him a weak almost-laugh, a flat _ha_. “Not like you to…” He shakes his head. “Well, I guess I can overlook a traffic ticket. Just this once."

He laughs half-heartedly in return and then they both avoid each other’s eyes, staring out the windows. Garrus seems to focus on the horizon with such intensity that he almost believes Garrus will move them closer to Huerta through willpower alone.

For six agonizing long minutes, no words are said between them.

But Tiberius Vakarian has not come so far to say nothing.

“Son….” He starts, stops, then sighs. Conversations with Garrus have always been difficult, and he’s never been good at admitting his own faults.

“Don’t.” Garrus looks away, eyes still focused on the horizon for Huerta. “I don’t need to hear it. I don't _want_ to hear it.”

“Garrus…”

"I mean it. I can’t…" He shakes his head. "Can’t deal with it right now."

"Garrus…"

Bright blue eyes - his own - flash at him in anger.

"Maybe you can’t understand her. Us. Fine. You said I made my choice - but you made yours, too. I’ve offered you _numerous_ chances…"

"Garrus. I was wrong.” 

“And if you can’t see…Wait,  _what_?” His son turns to him, head cocked, eyes puzzled; at long last, he has his son’s attention.

“I was wrong.” He grimaces, sub-vocals bordering on apologetic. “I just wanted you to be happy, and I…Well, I didn’t -”

“I know, dad.” He says, so softly that Tiberius can barely hear it. But he does, and it is enough. “But you need to understand, I'm happy with _her_ and I’m not letting Shepard or Tarquin feel like they’re not welcome in their family. If you can’t accept them, then…” 

He leaves the threat unstated and it, too, is enough.

“They won’t feel that way,” He finds himself saying, and with such conviction that Garrus looks at him with a stunned expression that Tiberius has never seen grace his son’s features before.

Huerta appears on the horizon and he pulls the skycar into freefall.

Garrus’ eyes are ever alert as they descend, his body so visibly tense that Tiberius longs to bring his son close for an embrace.

Instead, he tries to comfort his son with words. “You know, I remember, when you were born, Garrus.”

Garrus looks at him, but says nothing. He pulls into the emergency parking lot with a grace that he had thought to have left behind at C-SEC a lifetime ago.

“The  _Athenonix_  and I were en-route to Shanxi and there you were, coming early and a breach birth on top of it.”

“You know me, dad. Never one to do things the easy way.” His son jokes but Tiberius can tell the reaction is automatic, a reflex. Still, he detects a slight sag in Garrus’ shoulders that could be relief. 

At the very least, it is a distraction. And that may be something that they both need.

Tiberius unbuckles his seat belt and swings out of the car at the same time as his son does, a team moving in perfect unison. “The doctors weren't sure you were going to make it, Garrus. Your mother was so scared she’d lose you. She prayed to her mother's spirit, and her mother's mother's spirit, and the mother of your grandmother's spirit, all the way back to the spirit of Palaven itself - all in hopes that they would give her the strength to birth you." 

"Mom always did pray to the spirits." Garrus brushes him off as they both stride across the lot. 

"That's because thinking of our family gave her that strength, Garrus. And when you were born,  and she heard you wail so loudly right away… She was no longer afraid because she knew the spirits had given you the strength to make it through.” He thinks of Sapientia, young and unbridled by illness, and brushes away the ache in his heart to focus on the future. "By the time they patched me through on the  _Athenonix_ , she told me not to worry at all, because you were already fighting for us. And then I saw you, screeching and wailing, and I knew that she was right, because you were born a strong warrior."

He brushes open the door to the lobby as Garrus walks inside. “And here you are. Still fighting.”

Focused, Garrus all-but-demands Shepard’s room number from the receptionist. She hurriedly directs them to the elevator to the maternity ward and Garrus strides forward with purpose. Tiberius hobbles along behind him, trying to keep up with his son’s long strides.

It’s not until they’re inside the slow-moving elevator that his son gives any response to him.

“So that story...” Garrus breathes, pressing the button. "what you're saying is that this," a talon toward the hospital, "is all genetic?"

“Garrus…I’m saying she will make it. As will Tarquin. They are warriors. It’s in our blood.” And as he says the reassurance, he finds himself believing in it. He has to believe in it.

He has a duty to be strong for his son.

Garrus is silent for a few moments. Five floors go by before his son turns to face him again.

“Dad…How can you be so sure?” There is such raw need for reassurance in his boy’s sub-vocals, his eyes lost in countless terrible scenarios.

In reply, he reaches out and, when Garrus does not flinch, taps the colony markings on his son’s face. “Don’t you remember, boy? You are clan Vakarian. As are they.” He keeps his finger on his son’s face, traces the blue lines they share. His fingers still remember the paths they took drawing these on a squirming child and Tiberius can still trace the lines perfectly.  "Trust our family's spirits to give them the strength to come through."

"Besides," he raises one brow-plate as he reluctantly moves back. "Someone once told me that your wife can do the impossible.”

“Ha.” Garrus laughs nervously.“…Dad?”

“Yes?”

He finds himself pulled into a brief, crushingly warm embrace by his son. “Thanks.”

Then the door opens, and Solana envelops them both in nervous chattering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Athenonix_ is named after a roman trireme involved in the Classis Misenensis, one of the senior fleets of the roman navy.


	8. Chapter 7

“So, you and Garrus. That’s not a scene I’ve seen for a long time,” Solana says, sipping a cup of kafa as they wait.

Tiberius nods. “I have realized…that I perhaps erred in judgment.”

She laughs weakly. “I’m glad you….came around. I don’t think I could stand to wait here alone anymore.”

“Oh, you’d manage.” He glances toward his daughter. “Did you report in with your commander yet?”

A nod. “Yeah. He’s not happy. It’s going to be a real mess sorting this out.”

“It will.” He does not envy Victus, at the moment. “But despite that, Solana, you did well today.”

She stares into her kafa. “It doesn’t feel like it. I should have been faster.”

“Did your mark make it out alright?”

“Dignitary Pauvis is fine.” A pause. “I did my duty, but…I still feel like I failed her.”

“Do you think she feels that way?”

“No. I know she doesn’t.” Solana sighs. “But I choose to get Pauvis out first. If I’d picked Shepard…”

“You had orders. Shepard is a soldier. Do you think she would want you to break them?”

“No.” Solana’s eyes leave his for a moment to glance at the delivery room. “But that doesn’t change the fact that my nephew might be…” She trails away, staring into her kafa.

He places one hand over hers. “You do not know that, Solana. You saved his mother’s life today…You may well have saved his as well. There is  _nothing_ more you could have done.”

She is silent for a long while as they both drink their kafa and hope.

“It’s such a stupid thing,” She finally says, squeezing his hand. “We survived the reapers, and yet…Sometimes I don’t feel like we learned anything.”

He says nothing. What can he say?

They sit in silence, his hand squeezing tight to hers for a moment. Time passes, and he dares to hope. 

“He’s been in there a long time,” Sol murmurs, mandibles pulled tight to her chin.

“These things take time.” He squeezes her hand in return. “You yourself had your poor mother in labor for 48 hours.”

“You’re overestimating, dad.”

There is the noise of a door opening, and then a familiar and welcome booming voice: “He’s not, you took forever. Made me miss the entire premiere weekend of _Vorcha Vanquisher 3: Blood Rage_.” Garrus walks out of Shepard's room. He studies Garrus face – tired, but not overdrawn.

“How are…?”

“Shepard’s fine. Tired, sore and bruised, but ok. Tarquin’s with us, too.” His sub-vocals echo his pride. “Sol, dad, I’ve got a baby boy.”

“Oh, thank you, ancestors,” Solana murmurs.

He finds himself nodding.“How’s his diagnosis?” He asks. “Is he…?”

“Breathing, heart rate, pulse, all normal. But…” Garrus frowns. “Doctor Michael said that he’s very …delicate. Plates weren’t fully formed yet. They said that he’ll likely pull through and be fine, but… He’s going to need to stay in the intensive care section for a few days. Just to make sure everything’s developing right.” There is distress in Garrus’ sub-vocals, and he yearns to comfort his son.

And, for once, he allows himself to do so. “He will be all right, Garrus.” He grabs his son's hand in his free hand and squeezes it.

Garrus stares at their joined hands for a second, before grinning at them both. “They’re giving us a few minutes with the baby before he goes downstairs…Do you want to meet him?”

“Garrus, that is the stupidest question you’ve ever asked.” Solana rolls her eyes and marches toward Shepard’s room. Within moments, he can hear Shepard and Solana excitedly trilling and squawking at the babe.

He moves to follow, but Garrus stops him with an outstretched hand.

“Dad, wait a minute.”

Garrus face looks tense.

He tries to get Garrus to relax by clasping his son firmly around the cowl. “Congratulations, son.”

Garrus’ mandibles flutter away from his face and he gives his father a genuine smile. “Yeah, well…” Then, he shakes his head. “Look, before we join them… I want to talk to you.”

“Alright.” Tiberius folds his arms and nods. He will listen. He owes Garrus this much.

“I appreciate what you did today, for us. But…” He cocks his head. “I don’t understand why you’re here. You’ve made your position clear. Very clear.”

“I already told you. I have reconsidered. I was wrong.” He looks away, sighs. “I wanted you to be happy. I did not think you would be. But you clearly are. I can no longer object to your union.”

“Dad, you don’t know her. You’ve actively  _avoided_  knowing her.” Garrus stares at him, a harsh intensity in his gaze. “If you want to be part of my life, of his life…You’re going to be part of hers. I meant what I said earlier…I won’t let Tarquin feel his mother is unwelcome in his own family.”

“And I said that he will not feel that way.” He sighs again, forces himself to stay calm.

Garrus is, after all, only doing his duty as a father.

The thought that  _he_  is the threat Garrus must protect his child from, however…It is a hard thought to bear.

“Son, I cannot change the past. But I am trying to change …things, now.” He keens, lets the regret he feels slip into his sub-vocals. “I have missed you greatly. And I would like to know my grandson.”

“I know. And I’m willing to give you a second chance because I…” Garrus looks away. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I do…care…about you.”

“I care about you, too. _I always have_. Spirits, Garrus, don’t you know how hard these past few months have been?”

“Yes.” Garrus sighs. “That’s why…That’s why I don’t want to say this, but I have to. And I want you to know that I do mean it. If I ever –  _ever_  – get even a hint that you’re treating Jane like anything less than a full clan member, then you’ll never see him again. Or me. Do you understand, dad?”

“I…understand.” He offers a hand in an offer of peace.

“Good.” Garrus shakes his hand firmly, smiles. “Then I’d say you have a grandson to meet.”

He follows his son toward the door. He hears a soft babe’s trill and all the tension he feels wraps itself into a knot in his gizzard. 

He freezes.

His grandson is making those noises.

He has a  _grandson_.

"Dad...?" Garrus looks at him, tilts his head. "Are you alright?"

“Spirits, are you two going to yap out there all day?!” Solana yells.

The insistent voice of his daughter is enough to jolt him back to the present.

“It appears we should get in there,” Tiberius says. “Before your sister kills us.”

“Yeah, can’t leave Tarquin the sole Vakarian male in space. The ladies would never forgive us.”

He laughs, Garrus joins in, and the tension between them slowly drains away.


	9. Chapter 8

He follows Garrus into the room, and nothing can stop the breath from leaving his lungs when he takes in the sight before him. Shepard is covered in an odd sheen, wet with that weird human cool-down mechanism – Swealting? Sweating? – but she is smiling as much as her scarred and quite bruised face allows her to. The arm brace is gone, he notices, and in its place is a small bundle of blankets holding the babe. His wriggling, impossibly-tiny three-fingered hand is pawing the air as Solana gently strokes the babe’s mandibles.

When Shepard turns her bright eyes toward his son, he catches a flicker of surprise at his presence, and his heart pangs with regret. “Primarch Vakarian,” she says. “Garrus said you were on the Citadel, but I was surprised to hear you’d come with him. I wouldn’t have thought your duties would take you to Huerta.”

“I…may have cleared room in my schedule.” He clears his throat. “You see, I had to make a special delivery.” Tiberius inclines his head toward Garrus, and catches his son’s soft chuckle.

“Me too,” She says, and laughs, and just like that, he feels the spark of something new beginning between them. “Want to see?”

He very much does.

He takes his place on the other side of the bed from Solana. Hesitantly, he leans forward and lets one of his fingers touch the bottom of one of the babe’s soft spurs. Tarquin jerks a bit, flashing his bright-blue eyes toward his grandfather. Tarquin shouts at him with a surprised “kreeeeeee!” and Tiberius laughs.

The alert babe stares at him, watches his grandfather trace his oddly soft, still forming plates with a teasing finger. He can feel Garrus’ eyes on him, staring, and once again Tiberius Vakarian chooses his words carefully.

“He’s perfect,” he says, turning toward his daughter-in-law. “You should be proud.” Shepard closes her eyes and she nods.

For once, it feels the right thing to say.

The child closes his eyes in happiness as Garrus moves to sit beside Solana. He rubs Tarquin’s soft fringe, and for a few moments, the quiet purr of the babe is the only sound in a content world.

Then, there is a noise that, afterward, he is quite certain he only remembers as a very quiet explosion.

A booming, distinctly loud voice screaming “BATTLEMASTEERRR!” is the only warning he receives before a very large, very excited Krogran wearing a very underutilized hospital gown runs into the room.

“Grunt?” Garrus asks.

“Battlemaster! Mate of Battlemaster!” The krogan looks at them both, then at Tarquin, and beams. “Our krannt has grown!”

“Krannt?” Tiberius says, the foreign word tasting odd on his tongue.

“Not now, dad.” Garrus quickly turns away from him, focusing on the krogan problem at hand. “Yes, that’s true, Grunt. How did you find us, anyway?”

“I smelled Shepard when I came out of surgery.” The krogan grins. “Let’s just say 16 asari nurses may have tried, but they couldn’t keep me away from seeing our krannt’s resurgence!”

There is a small pause, and Tiberius is sure they are all painting a vivid mental picture of this Grunt’s hospital escapades.

“Mr….Ah, Grunt.” Solana is the first to recover. “Thank you for your help getting Shepard out of the Towers.”

“Of course! Shepard is a battlemaster beyond compare. It is my honor to assist her.” The krogan called Grunt grins at his daughter, then takes three short strides to their bed, and leans in as he stares at the child. Sniffs. Tarquin fusses at the movement but quiets as the krogan places one large finger on his brow.

Despite the krogan’s friendliness, Tiberius finds himself instinctively moving to grab a pistol he has not carried in twenty years.

“Hmph. It’s small.” The krogan sounds disappointed, and Tiberius isn’t sure if he’s relieved or alarmed by that.

“He’ll grow, Grunt,” Shepard says with a tired laugh.

The krogan nods. “Yes, he will grow! And I will teach him to be strong!” Grunt holds his arms out and grins. “When the time comes for his Rite, Shepard, I will be honored to be among his krannt. We will do glorious battle and he will earn many mating requests.”

Garrus laughs and Tiberius can hear the slightest hint of nervousness in his son’s sub-vocals. “A bit early for that, Grunt.”

The krogan named Grunt grins before pulling something out of his bulging pocket. With a delicate grace, Grunt lays down small plastic figurines of a red haired human and a silver-scaled turian next to the babe. “May he grow strong in your images, battlemaster!”

“Ah, Grunt, that’s…very thoughtful,” Garrus says, and Tiberius can see Garrus, too, is picking his words carefully. “Why don’t I walk you back to your room, now, so Shepard and the baby can get some rest?”

Grunt nods energetically. “Yes. We should discuss how to begin his training,” he says, deathly serious. Garrus sighs and nods, before dragging the Krogan by the arm out of the room. Grunt chats with Garrus, and Tiberius cringes as he overhears the words “fringe” “pull off” and “claw hammer” put together in a …disturbing order.

There is a stunned silence for the moment until Tarquin shifts in Shepard’s arms and wails as he bumps into the figurine. The child’s reaction is enough to jolt them all back to the krogan-less present.

“What was that?” He asks, finally, as Solana removes the figurines.

“That was Grunt,” Shepard says as she quiets the babe, rocking him in her arms. “He’s sort of …family, from the Normandy.”

“I think,” Solana says,“That that may be the first turian birth ever attended to by a krogan.”

Shepard laughs. “Pretty sure this is the first in a lot of turian births.”

There is a loud scraping noise outside followed by what certainly sounds like Garrus yelling. As one, they all glance at the door in alarm.

Solana is the first to stand up. “I think…I’m going to check on that. Make sure our krogan visitor isn’t planning to murder my brother.”

Shepard nods, and Solana leans over to press her forehead to Shepard’s, a gesture he is shocked to see Shepard return.

Solana nods at him, then leans in to press her face to Tarquin’s small one and lets her sub-vocals burst with joy. The babe trills back a happy tone and she grins.

Then Solana departs, and he is left alone with his grandson and daughter-in-law.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: This was accidently uploaded first; the most-recently uploaded chapter is Chapter 8.

He does not know what to say, so he says nothing.

Shepard spends a few moments soothing Tarquin, humming softly, until the babe quiets.

Then he is all too aware of the silence.

He tries to think of the right combination of words but fails. Only Tarquin’s occasional soft noises interrupt them.

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Shepard says, finally breaking the silence. “Without you, Garrus wouldn’t have been here in time for the delivery.”

“It was nothing.”

“And, for the record, I am glad you’re here.” She sighs. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but – “

“But it is what Garrus and you want.” He nods and looks at her. “I am sorry I did not realize that earlier.”

“I am too. You hurt him,” she says, and even though there is no malice in her thin voice, he winces. “You really did. It’s very hard for me to forgive that.”

He closes his eyes.

“It….has not been easy on me either, Commander.” He rises from the bed and walks toward the window – which, he notices, is far too large and far too easy for a sniper to get a clear shot through. He makes a note to tell Garrus to request a room change.

“Honestly? I’m glad,” she says. “Because he’s been suffering, too, for a long time. And it hurts me, to see him like that. I love your son very much, Primarch, and yet you can’t even call me by my  _name_.” Her words are an open challenge.

“I know…Jane,” he says. He cannot turn to face her. There is another loud noise in the hall, and he purposefully stares at the closed door, only partially monitoring it for a threat.

“I need to know something before we go any further with this,” she says, and he can detect a subtle hitch in her voice. “If Tarquin looked fully human, would you still want to be in his life?”

“Commander Shepard…” He sighs. “Why bring up what has not come to pass?”

“I want to know.”

“…No, I would not.” He concedes. “The logical explanation would be that he would not be my son’s issue-”

“But, even if that was true -  _which it wouldn’t be_  - if your son raised him, he would be your grandson, none the less.” She runs a finger from her free hand down to caress her son’s cheek. “Garrus told me that he wants you to be part of our son’s life. Frankly, I’m less sure. I don’t want Tarquin feeling ashamed of his human heritage.”

“I have already talked to Garrus about this. He will not learn such from me.” He gathers his courage and meets her eyes. “I have worked with many humans in my career.”

“I’m not challenging your ability to maintain a working relationship with humans.” She raises an eyebrow. “A family relationship is something different.”

“It….” He shakes his head. “It is …complicated. I objected to your union because I did not believe you could give my son what I felt he needed to be happy. Turians place a great deal of weight on ….heritage, particularly clans as old as ours... Garrus might not have cared when you married, but it is my duty as his father to consider his future needs as well. I was, obviously,” he chuckles, “quite wrong, despite all medical literature to the contrary.”

“So you’re telling me that if Tarquin here hadn’t come along, you would have been happy to just…never talk to Garrus again? Because you didn’t like a choice he made?”

“Happy? No. I would not be happy.” He sighs. “But I…was a detective, Jane. I believe in the outcome that the evidence points to. Human-turian couples are rare, for good reason. Your culture is very, very different than ours.”

“You’re right.” Shepard looks thoughtful. “But different does not mean incompatible, Primarch.”

“Perhaps you are right.” He flares his mandibles. Solana and Garrus have been gone longer than he’d like. He feels vulnerable, exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the too-large window.

Still, he perseveres.

”You should call me Tiberius, Jane. Given that you are my…daughter…it does not seem right you address me by title.”

“Tiberius, then.” She smiles, and he dares to hope.

“But…let’s get one thing straight, Tiberius. I don’t want you in my son’s life if you’re going to pull this crap again. I’m not having my son feel like he did something wrong just because grandpa suddenly isn’t talking to him anymore. If you’re just going to cut him out of your life like that…You might as well not be part of it.”

“And if I offer you my word that that will not come to pass?”

“Then I’ll let you off with extra diaper duty as your punishment.”

He chuckles.“A fitting punishment, I suppose.”

Tarquin breaks up their discussion with a soft keen, and he watches Shepard move to tuck Tarquin closer to her body. She instinctively comforts the child with soft caresses as the babe clings to her.

She will be a good mother, he thinks, even without a cowl to tuck him in.

“One more thing.” Her smile fades as she looks down at Tarquin. “Did Garrus tell you, how this happened?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, humans and turians aren’t normally…compatible, like that, as you well know. I wasn’t originally, either.” She frowns. “I’ll give you the short version. I died, once. Spaced. Dead two years. Cerberus - you’ve heard of them, right?”

A nod. He's dealt with Cerberus a few times in C-SEC, and he knows their methods. He feels too uneasy to speak. He thinks of Garrus, of two years lost, and wonders if Shepard was the only one who has died and been reborn.

"Well, they decided to bring me back, and Cerberus did. However…"

She gives a soft chuckle that sounds odd,like it is caught in her throat. “Cerberus always had backup plans. I went through a lot of damage. Guess burning up on re-entry can do that to you. They knew there was no guarantee I’d ever regain function...Let alone consciousness.” She looks away. “But I was too expensive to invest in without some kind of guaranteed return.”

She pauses. He isn't sure of what to say, so he says nothing.

"So, while I was dead, they decided if I couldn’t stop the Reapers, I could be the means of controlling them." She shivers. “They decided the best way to do that was to breed their own squadron of reapers. The only problem for Cerberus - _besides how they could even think of doing that to a sentient being_  - was they didn’t know what reapers were made of. They hadn't gotten any samples of Reaper tech yet; I was just the first piece of the puzzle. So they gave me enough programming to make me compatible of breeding with anything. Dextro or Levo.”

Shepard finishes her story in a whisper and refuses to look at him.

“…Why are you telling me this, Jane?” He is uncomfortable with her being this vulnerable in front of him. The story is so preposterous that he struggles to believe it. He knows he wouldn’t be able to if evidence to the contrary wasn’t currently pawing at her fringe.

She does not turn her gaze to him; rather, she smiles down at her babe, warm and safe in his mother’s arms. “I’m telling you this because Garrus and I weren’t planning on having natural children. Cerberus didn’t give me an owner’s manual about everything they did to me. We just figured we’d adopt, and then, well, Tarquin David Shepard-Vakarian here came along.” She brushes Tarquin’s fringe and the babe gives a happy click.

“And even though we’ve got Tarquin here, we’re still planning on adopting, too. I need to know – if Tarquin has siblings who are human, or asari, or salarian, or hell, krogans – how are you going to see them? Will they be your grandchildren as well?”

He imagines the krogan named Grunt sporting Vakarian markings and shudders.

But…there are worse things in the universe, and being without his family is one of them.

“…Yes.” Perhaps she is right, and they can live together. Perhaps he will be able to teach what it means to be a member of the Hierarchy to a human child. He tries to imagine himself teaching a young asari maiden how to make her first  _copulae di spiriti_  to place in her grandmother’s tomb - and finds it surprisingly easy to do so. He can even see himself looking forward to teaching a krogan how to fire his first rifle. They may be the first of their kind in the Vakarian line, but he will guide them to the ancestor’s spirits. “Yes, I could.”

“Then I think we’ll be ok.” She grins. “Provided you don’t mind occasional babysitting responsibilities.”

And with that, the ember between them catches flame.

“Of course,” he says. Tarquin mewls in his mother’s arms, and he reaches out and grasps one tiny hand. Shepard murmurs a soft Turian melody and he hums along with her, his sub-vocals adding depth to the song that her human voice cannot.

Tarquin’s eyes grow heavy and slowly droop into dreams, his fingers still touching his grandfather’s finger.

“Jane,” he whispers, and Shepard’s eyes are instantly on his. “The sacrifices you have made to join our family will not be undocumented.” Tiberius buries his eyes in the infant. He doesn’t trust his voice not to break with thin, reedy sounds of shame if he turns to face his daughter-in-law. “When I return to Palaven, your name and deeds will be written into the family lineage, and Tarquin’s, of course, when he is grown. I also intend to see that both Tarquin and you will have full hierarchy citizenship. And any future …additions, as well.”

He will raise her to the ancestors. He prays they find her fitting.

“Thank you,” she says. When he finally glances up at her face, he sees her eyes shiny and wet again and decides that, for once, this is a good thing. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He smiles. Nothing can ruin this moment. Not even the very loud, scraping noise that sounds suspiciously like a krogran riding a gurney outside their door. Not even the sound of two familiar flanging voices raised in alarm distract him from this new beginning, three generations united in bond and blood.

“You know, they said they were only going to give us a few moments with the baby.”

“I suspect,” he says dryly, “that our krogran friend may be keeping them…distracted.”

"Yeah." She chuckles. “Hey…do you think you could hold Tarquin for a while?” She smiles, but he can see the exhaustion behind our eyes. “First, I got interrogated on ship details by a bunch of really boring dignitaries. Then, I was involved in a shoot out with a bunch of krogans. As if that wasn’t enough,  _then_  I pushed a spikey six pound infant out of my body. Now, there’s all this emotional bonding crap - It’s been a heck of a day.”

“It would be an honor,” he says, and gently takes the babe from her arms. Tarquin wakes for a moment and fidgets, but relaxes when he sees his grandfather’s face. He rubs the child’s brow with affection and is rewarded with a soft birth-purr. He flares his mandibles in a wide grin and looks back at Shepard, only to find her already asleep.

“I suppose it is just us now, Tarquin,” he murmurs. Tarquin gives no response, simply curling more into his grandfather’s touch.

Spirits, could he have ever considered living without knowing this child?

The ancestors have blessed him. Perhaps not in the manner he imagined it, but…this is a blessing.

It is time he shows deference to their spirits. As Patriarch, it is his duty to say the rite.

“Thank you, ancestors, for bringing Tarquin to us,” he says, and gently dips his touch from the child’s brow to his still-soft keel, feels the child’s soft heartbeat. _Oh spirits,_  he loves this babe already. “May he make you proud.”

Tarquin looks at his grandfather and whimpers a cry into his arms. He rubs the babe’s too-soft body and murmurs a thousand devotions to a thousand different ancestors. He prays they watch as this child lives, grows strong and does honor to their memories. He loses count of his prayers until the loud noises in the hall suddenly stop and a door opens.

Garrus enters, but he notices that his son is walking with a more pronounced limp than when he left.

“Sorry about that,” Garrus begins, eyes cast down on the floor and sub-vocals screaming embarrassment, “Grunt wanted to …demonstrate some moves to show Tarquin and when Solana came out, he got excited about two-on-one techniques. Anyway, he hurled Sol halfway across the floor and she came back with some Blackwatch moves and then it all got out of hand; they destroyed half the waiting room and let’s just say not only are they going to spending the next few hours cleaning it up, but I had to cash in some favors and C-Sec will be involved in the next  _several_  Huerta fundraisers…”

Garrus stops babbling as he lifts his eyes for the first time and notices Shepard’s drooping form. He turns and stares, instead, at his father.

Wordlessly, Tiberius stands up, carrying Tarquin over to his Garrus’s arms. Garrus takes the babe almost gingerly. He smiles with more gentleness than he’s ever seen in his son when Tarquin stirs in his father’s arms.

“You were praying to the ancestors for him,” Garrus says, and he hears the sub-vocals keening with hope.

“Yes, but I did not get a chance to finish the blessing for him. I would like to do so, with your permission.”

The unspoken words of the last lines of his prayer hang heavy in the air.

Garrus nods, understanding, and he notes his son’s throat flushes just a bit bluer as Tiberius utters the final words of the benediction- _I claim this child as blood of my blood, a continuation of Line Vakarian, unbroken since the last battle of Cipritine_. He brushes his mandible against Garrus’s own, and then to Tarquin’s impossibly small one.

“Thank you.” Tiberius murmurs, watching his son.

“Hmm?” Garrus raises one brow-plate at him. “What for?”

“It would have been well within your right to refuse me today. You had every right to turn me away from your wife and your child and yet you did not.”

“Mmm.” He nods. “A few years ago, I would have but…” Garrus’s gaze turns from his son to his wife. “She taught me to believe in second chances. She’s…she makes me better, dad.”

“You make yourself better for her, Garrus.” He thinks of the time he has lost to know Garrus and his bondmate. “I am sorry I did not understand that sooner.”

Garrus trills reassurance softly, and for a few moments, the three stand together in peace.

“So, uh, dad…Do you uh…” Garrus’ neck is definitively bluer. “have any advice? I uh…I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“Well… As his father, you must always be looking out for him. Looking for ways to help him become a productive adult. Never coddling him or cutting him breaks. Holding him accountable for both deeds and misdeeds. Praying to the spirits for him to choose the right paths.”

“I know that much,” his son says, rubbing his neck. “Seem to remember someone telling me his job wasn’t to make my life easy.”

“And most importantly,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, willing the spirits of their ancestors to give him courage. “You must realize when your son has gained the wisdom to make his own decisions.”

“Dad…” Garrus pulls him with his free hand, and the two embrace for the second time that day.

A new record, that.

He looks forward to breaking it.

This is just the beginning, he knows.

There is a long future ahead of them, one that he is sure will not be easy.

But, he thinks, they will meet it as a family.

That is his duty as a father. As a grandfather.

He embraces his son and grandson in the same moment and marvels at how just this simple act can make things once more feel  _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Or, at least, the end of the beginning. Thanks so much to everyone who gave kudos, reviews, or just read along! All of you have made writing this an awesome journey, one I loved!
> 
> There will be more one offs in this universe (I can't resist writing Tiberius and co) and a full, proper sequel coming soon. The first one-off will be Shepard-focused and should be up later this week. Went ahead and made a collection page for it, and it will be added there ASAP. :)
> 
> **Author’s Notes/Translations/Headcanons:**
> 
>  
> 
>  _Tiberius_ ' name was chosen mostly for roman flavoring.I really wish papa Vakarian had a canon name! For a long time I wrote this without giving him ANY name - but it got too confusing to tell who was doing what when he was having conversations with Garrus.
> 
>  _Sapientia_ is a latin word for wisdom. I choose that name because I wanted to imply that Mama Vakarian represented motherly wisdom and kept the family together. In my headcanon, Tiberius usually turned to her for handling the kids (he had to, he was working on the Citadel a lot and the kids stayed on Palaven) and she was the one who kept the family together, which wasn't easy in a household as strong-willed as this one. After she died, Tiberius struggled with keeping up the relationship with the grown-up kids.
> 
>  _Spiriti_ \- a type of flowers that Solana and Garrus leave for their mom - are based off of the latin word for spirits. Seemed like an appropriate funerary flower, and the spirit part ties back to mama vakarian being the one holding together the family.
> 
>  _copulae di spiriti_ \- what Tiberius imagines making with an asari granddaughter - are more or less flower crowns or wreaths. (literally “knot of spirits”). 
> 
> _Tarquin_ is named after Tarquin Victus. My head canon is that Turians tend to name their children after family members, friends, or famous turian martyrs. Since Garrus was on the outs with his dad, the family route isn't an option. They choose Tarquin partially because they knew him and were present when he made his sacrifice, and also to honor Adrien Victus, who Garrus and Shepard remained good friends with.
> 
>  _David_ , Tarquin’s middle name, is perhaps obviously from Captain David Anderson. Had he been born more human shaped, the names would have been reversed. I thought Shepard and Garrus seemed the type to want their kid to have a name from both of his parent's cultures.
> 
> This was originally written for the Mass Effect Kink Meme, based on the prompt: 
> 
> I just realized that despite masskink has many fics where Jane having a turian baby but we've never reached to the point where Garrus's dad and Solana get to meet their new family member (one A!A even mentions about that scene but never actually got to it!). 
> 
> So now I reaally want to see that scene, I want to see Vakarian's papa holds his grandson for the first time, Solana coos over her cute nephew and then they have to deal with the fact that the boy's mother is Jane Shepard, a human.
> 
> A!As don't have to write from the beginning of the child's birth, just only the above scene is enough for me. Please, after getting tease too many times with all those fics, just for once, I want to actually see those scenes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Many Adventures of Tarquin David Shepard-Vakarian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566495) by [TeeSa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeeSa/pseuds/TeeSa)




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